How far is from out of town?

 

I gave this photo the provisional title, "The Door," although it was more a nod to an observation I made —not while taking the shot, but after—or perhaps an assumption, except I know that we've all been there, either looking or being looked at when the door opens.

I was out looking for burned fields yesterday. I had already made a big loop north of town and the plan was to go south. I was passing back through town when my belly said "Lunch." But I didn't want to stop in my town as the temptation might have been too strong to just head home afterward and take a nap. And, if I was going to go home after lunch, well then, I might as well get some food at home and save a few bucks.

Not wanting to go home quite yet made the decision for me and I passed my turn-off with a destination in mind in the next town over, some ten miles further.

I am quite certain the two men in the foreground, the only other customers at the time, turned to see when I opened the door, but I did not bother to notice. Had I not been attired in a variation of their uniform, I might have.

The special was a cheeseburger and fries, which made it easy, and I already had a preview as the two men had just been handed theirs. The older gent was talking about his 25th wedding anniversary when the young Mennonite couple came in, and again, I took no notice if the two men turned then either.

And again, my phone paid attention to the particulars. I merely wanted to get a flavor of the place.

But I did notice the young couple spending quite a bit of time looking over my way. So much so and in such a way —smiles, giggles, whispers— that I had to do a quick inventory: No, my ball cap did not have any witty saying stitched into it, my t-shirt a simple gray, and my pants a simple denim carpenter's.

Not that I had not made my own quietly discreet assessment.